Musings of Shieldmaidens and Kings
by La Femme Du Lac
Summary: Just a collection of rambles AKA drabbles I have that I figured I'd post. They're about anything Aragorn or Eowyn related, but NOT ARAGORN AND EOYWN SHIPPED. Read and review! Feb 4: teh gasp! TWO updates!
1. Beauty and Pain

**Disclaimer:** Keyword: FANfiction

**_Musings of Shieldmaidens and Kings_**

**Beauty And Pain**

He told me I was beautiful. He told me that I was more lovely than flower nor maiden of Gondor. He told me that it would please him to see me while the war is not yet lost, at the very end of this hope I had struggled to hold on to.

And I was frightened.

If I let my emotions run me, if I gave him my love, my heart might break again. I had already dealt with that mind-numbing pain once; I would not, I could not survive it again.

**_A/N:_** An Éowyn story, brought to you by yours truly. This one is my favorite of all the ones I wrote so far. So this one is about Éowyn and Faramir when they first meet in the Houses of Healing, and Eowyn's reflection on it. It sounds a lot like me.

Anyway…I need 'brother(not kin)' in Quenya. If you can tell me in reviews I will thank you.


	2. Torture in Rohan

**_Disclaimer:_** Need I say more?

**_Musings of Shieldmaidens and Kings_**

**Torture in Rohan**

Why? Why me? Why is this unexplainable horror placed upon my unlucky shoulders? Why can I not be whither my brother is, learning how to punish Orcs for the wrong that they have served us?

They say He is gaining allies in secret and using them to plot against Rohan. Old wives tales, I say. Why would Sauron even care for Rohan? It is not as if we are harboring the lost heir of Isildur or something. **_(snicker from the Author)_**

Oh, Valar, no. She is taking out her needlepoint. Oh, Eru, it's a _heart_. Why must my uncle make me endure such torture?

"Éowyn! Are you paying any attention to a _word_ I am speaking?"

"Yes, m'lady."

Thank the Kings of old she cannot see my thoughts.

**_Author's Notes:_** Another Eoywn story. Those are the only ones I have done so far and I don't want to keep you waiting for like months and months like in most of my other stories. So don't worry Aragorn/Arwen shippers, your time will come! Éowyn is about 16 and it's about 3001 in this ramble. Read and review please and the next chapter might-kinda-sorta-not-really come faster.


	3. Of Sowing and Secrets

_**Disclaimer:**_I don't have the brilliance to be the dead guy in question. Or his son.

_**Brief Plot Summary:**_ Elrohir and Elladan's reaction to our favorite ranger and elf couple and the first meeting of Gandalf and Aragorn.

_**Author's Note: **_I absolutely love Elrohir and Elladan in this ramble/drabble. They're so…devious. Read on to find out more…

_**Musings of Shieldmaidens and Kings**_

**Of Sowing and Secrets**

"Such masculinity in sowing, Estel," a sarcastic voice came from the shadows. A 20-year-old Aragorn tensed slightly in his hunched position by the fireplace. He looked up and relaxed considerably.

"My overcoat needs mending. It is quite worn since my latest travels."

"You look more and more ragged with every rip," another voice drawled.

A sudden theory struck the first voice. "Maybe he's purposely doing this," the first voice replied, "to appeal to our sister."

"What!" Aragorn protested defensively and hid his hand, which, until recently, bore the Ring of Barahir. "That is preposterous! Have you two been drinking too much Elven wine?"

Elrohir and Elladan exchanged evil grins.

"What are you planning?" Aragorn inquired slowly and clearly.

"Nothing that would hurt you. Now, Arwen on the other hand…"

"Who are you two? Celegorm and Curufin?" Aragorn's tone hinted to them to take their noses out of where they didn't belong or have something very unpleasant forced into those noses.

"_Otorno_, it was only good fun, we meant not to scare you. No, we are more the Huans of the Third Age, protecting Beren and Luthien from on-coming harm." There was a slight mocking tone in Elladan's voice and Aragorn's sharp ears caught it.

"Who told you? Was it my mother?" Aragorn stood up now, his eyes blazing in passion, his voice in a low growl.

"No, your own eyes betrayed you."

Aragorn's frame slouched, recognizing defeat.

"We have no intentions of telling _Ada_—"

"He may already know, though."

"You shall just have to take your chances—"

"Though I doubt he has not already noticed. You have been without your ring for a week."

"What are you doing hither then?" Aragorn asked curiously.

"Ah-ah-ah," Elrohir replied, waving his index finger with each 'ah.' "We ask the questions. But if you must know, we are hither to introduce you to a good friend of ours. He is known to the Elves as Mithrandir. He is one of the Maia and the keeper of the ring Narya. He can help you on your travels."

An old man entered on cue—not weak-and-feeble old, but aged-like-fine-wine old. His beard and hair were white and down past his waist. He wore a completely grey ensemble: a hat that was long, pointed, and curved in the back, a cloak, and a set of robes. Everything seemed gray by necessity, not for a fashion statement. The hat gave him a sense of anonymity; the only clues of a face was a beak-like nose sticking out from under the hat and a wooden, polished pipe giving off a steady stream of smoke.

"Could this be a servant of the Enemy?" Aragorn asked, suspicious.

"Estel!" Elladan said in faux-scandalized tones. "Do you not trust us?"

"I assure you, Aragorn," the grey clad figure answered, lifting the brim of his hat so he could see Aragorn's face, "if I was a servant of the Enemy, I would have killed you by now."

Aragorn stared into the figure's grey eyes and the figure stared back. After about five minutes of this, Elrohir and Elladan got bored of watching them.

"Yes," Elrohir began, his elbows resting on a table and his head in his cupped hands, "this is how Middle-Earth's fate will be decided. A _staring contest_."

Aragorn finally broke his gaze and glared at the twin brothers of his Elven love. He growled and muttered something about "finding a lie in his eyes."

"Well, clearly you haven't, so go off and do your adventuring!" Elladan demanded. "We have to get back to Rivendell. _Ada_ thinks we're off hunting Orcs with you."

"I win then," the figure known as Mithrandir said, very businesslike. He shook Aragorn's hand. "Welcome to unlearning everything you have learned. I think this is going to be a beautiful friendship."

_**Reference Notes:**_

Celegorm and Curufin were two of the sons of Fëanor who temporarily trapped Luthien when she went to go save/find Beren. It's in _The Silmarillion_ if you want to read about it.

Huan was the wolf that saved the temporarily trapped Luthien from Celegorm and Curufin. He also helped Beren and Luthien in other ways, but the above sense is how I meant it in. Also in _The Silmarillion_.


	4. Mirror Image

**_Disclaimer_:** I own nothing except my sanity, which I have lost a year ago along with my CD collection. Which I have found about four months ago. But that's not the point.

**_Author's_ _Note_: **Just an idea in my head (inspired by _Lion King 2_) that blossomed into a chapter of my rambles/drabbles.

**_Musings of Shieldmaidens and Kings_**

**Mirror Image**

Eldarion had retired to his room, claiming that he was too old to watch the clouds swirl and glide in the twilight sky and that it was too feminine for someone of his stature to do. Estel had gone with him. He seemed to want more to do with his son's life as of late. Why this was mattered not. Maybe, my mind mused, he was making up for those few first months of his son's life that he missed. I was happy when I saw my two boys together nonetheless.

I put my second child and first girl, Nostawen, in my arms. She resembled my grandmother, Lady Galadriel, the most. Her golden hair had just started to darken and her sapphire eyes were jewels I wouldn't give away for the world. She laid her head in my shoulder and I smoothed her brow, which was damp and dirty from playing.

But now we were playing a new game. This game required mental prowess and an acute fourth sense.

"_Nana_, look! A sheep!" Nostawen screamed with delight—and a slight lisp that little children seem to have when learning to talk—and pointed at the orange streaked cloud. I, however, saw nothing more that a fluffy cloud that reminded me of my pillows inside.

Or maybe it just required an active imagination.

I quickly got ahead of my little daughter by spotting two Orcs fighting over the Ring, but I debated on telling my daughter the tale behind it. Aside from it being a bit too scary for a two-year-old girl's mind, I didn't know the entire story. What if I gave her the wrong information…

"_Nana_! It's Orcs!" my daughter squealed frightfully, clinging to me even more and I sighed and turned on my side, knowing that I would most likely have to talk to Aragorn about scaring our daughter into nightmares for weeks about things that are nearly gone from this world. Men just don't seem to grasp that young girls are more delicate than young boys.

"Where did you learn about Orcs?"

"_Ada_ told me," she said with her big, blue, adorable eyes. "He said that Orcs were…male…malievolie…"

I laughed softly at her mispronunciation—it was ironic that the most evil beings ever on Middle-Earth now amounted to tales that little children stumbled over—and said, "Malevolent, dear. It means bad."

She nodded. "Uh-huh! That's what _Ada_ said, but he said that they're all gone now."

"That's right, they can't hurt you now."

We spent the rest of twilight finding clouds and naming them either rabbits or dragons or whatever else we saw them as. The last one we saw was probably the most important of them all.

"_Nana_, Look! It's a King like _Ada_!" I heard Nostawen cry in joy. I looked up and sure enough, there was a noble figure in the sky with a sword in his hand. The deep blue sky showed through the faint clouds. The stars were coming out and the first one of the night was settled on the cloud king's neck.

I smiled and looked over into our bedroom, which looked out into the courtyard. A candle was lit and the light was fluttering to and fro on the walls of the room. Estel was looking out pensively into the stars, the Evenstar hanging limply from his neck. My smile grew a few moments later as I held Nostawen by the entrance to the courtyard, looking out at the stars at the lost King and his mirror image.

_**Translation:**_

Nostawen is the actual Elvish translation for 'Natalie.' Yes, that's my name. Please, don't stalk me.

You can find the translation for your name on www dot elvish dot org slash elm slash names slash n dot html.


	5. Softening the Blow

_**Disclaimer: **_Need I say more?

_**Author's Note: **_Gasp, I'm updating! Alert the media! I kinda lost interest in Lord of the Rings for a while. I still think it's great and all, I just haven't had time to nurture my obsessions with a job and school and getting ready for college. But anyway, I found some time and old fan fiction that I wrote and decided to post it. This one's more movie verse than the others. This is right after Aragorn falls in the battle of the Wargs in the Two Towers. Legolas and Gimli may seem a little out of character, but that's how the words fell on the paper. They remind me of how my best friend Becca (AKA CloeNash…check out her stuff on this site and Fictionpress!) and me relate to each other.

_**Musings of Shieldmaidens and Kings**_

**Softening the Blow**

They had ridden for no more than an hour when Legolas realized something.

"Gimli, how are we going to tell Éowyn?" he whispered behind him.

"Hmm?" the helmeted figure whispered back.

"How are we going to tell Éowyn about Aragorn?"

"Oh. She has taken quite a liking to him, hasn't she?"

"Stop avoiding the subject! One of us needs to tell her and I think it should be you."

"Why is that, laddie?"

"You are better at comforting people. Laughter is the best medicine for grief."

"That makes no sense! Everyone needs to grieve, for at least a short time. As for my opinion, I think you should. You are better with words."

"While that is true, I believe that Éowyn will need some comfort. You know, soften the blow."

"So I am a blow cushion?"

Legolas thought about it for a minute, and then – to his own disbelief – cracked a grin. "Yes."

"Well, if you keep on insulting me, then I won't do it."

"We could both do it…"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and simultaneously decided, "Nah!"


	6. After the Father is Gone

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't have the brilliance to be the dead guy in question. Or his son.

_**Author's Note:**_ I don't ship Elrond/Gilraen! It just wrote itself that way. Just thought I'd throw that out there. Read and review!!

_**Musings of Shieldmaidens and Kings**_

**After the Father is Gone**

The young widow had come to me in her time of need, hardly holding any composure at all. Her dark eyes were swollen and red. Her lip was quivering and her cheeks were covered in dirt and dust, but had light streaks I could only assume that her tears had made. She might have been stunning if she was not in such a state of dissarray. The arm holding her young toddler was the only part on her entire body not shaking.

The little composure she had she gave to her son. He was calmly sleeping in his mother's arms, his tiny fingers grasping a ring with two serpents intertwined. I recognized it as the Ring of Barahir and assumed the worst. _This must be Gilraen and Aragorn_, I thought, remembering the stories my sons, Elrohir and Elladan, told me about Lord Arathorn and his family.

I opened my arms and received a bone-crushing, one-armed hug from Gilraen. It felt as though she put all her emotional and physical weight on me.

"Oh Elrond! Arathorn is dead. I have just seen his body…oh, what am I going to do!" Gilraen wailed, not breaking the embrace, and I could see tears threatening to spill out of her trembling eyes. She took a deep, gasping breath and continued, "I need somewhere to go. I do not want Aragorn to be…exposed to this anymore than he has to. Your knowledge has vast renown, even in the North. I presumed that you would know somewhere for us to go. If you do not, then we shall just…go." She made to leave but I stopped her

I pat her shoulder gently and told her, "You are welcome to stay here in the Last Homely House. I doubt that you will be able to travel much further with a young child in tow. I can help you raise Aragorn and I doubt my children will mind. Arwen loves babies."

Gilraen looked up at me with enormous, doe-like eyes, finally breaking the hug.

"Y-you would do that? For me?"

"I would do this for anyone whose intentions seem as pure as yours, my lady."

The hug was back with gusto and, strangely, the feeling of parenthood washed over me. I was never expecting to feel this way again because Celebrìan had been taken, but there I was, holding a young girl and her infant son who was peacefully sleeping in our entertwined arms. It seemed to be my role in this life. It was good that I enjoyed every moment of it.


End file.
